Part 3: Willockman

Still sulking that his poo was discovered, The Willock has been pretending to be asleep since the Lollywagon reached the edge of the woods. Everybody else is excited to see another little girl, about the same age as Lollybloggings, practising with her pom poms in the sunshine, and the two little girls prance and sing and play while Ember and the others watch happily.


The Willock, however, is feeling a bit lonely and rejected. He hates it. He watches the two girls invent their own cheerleading routine and he starts to wonder what life would be like if he was the kind of Willock who had his own cheerleaders. The kind of Willock who everybody looked to when things went wrong and help was needed. The kind of Willock who was loved by all and admired by all.

Would he hate it?

Bored by the cheerleading, The Willock begins to doze off in his cart, and at that moment, somewhere inside The Willock's mind, is born...WILLOCKMAN.


Quickly he changes into his Willockcostume (Willocks don't need hands to change when they are superheros, they just think really hard and a cape pops on their back) and stands proudly to attention, scowling at the world below, waiting for trouble to strike.

Crime: he hates it.

At that moment, a torch, shining into the clouds with a bit of black cardboard over the end to make a Willock shape, displays the Willocksignal, summoning his aid.


Willockman launches himself towards the source of the trouble and floats at double speed towards it. Willocks have to float, because they have no feet, but Willockman floats at superwillocky speeds - faster than a speeding Willock, you might say.

The sirens are whining in the night and flames are shooting into the sky. Willockman can hear voices calling his name, begging him to rescue the innocents and defeat the evil; he hurtles on towards the city centre, the Willocksignal shining above him and a sparkly trail of dust in his wake. He hears a chant in the night: willock, Willock, WILLOCK...HOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

He's nearly there now...he flexes his muscles...hundreds of faces turn to him eagerly, waiting for him to save the day...

In his little trailer, The Willock opens an eye lazily. "Bugger it," he thinks to himself, as he considers how much work would need to go into being a superhero. No wonder no Willock has ever been one before him. Willockman? He hates it.